


Faith Through Blood And Hardship

by ozsia



Series: Entwining Destinies [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Eventual Relationships, First Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Third Route | Revelation Route, Use of both Japanese and English names, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: Maybe it was Fate's doing. Fate that had Robin's journey land him in Hoshido so far away from Ylisse after he had left everything behind.  Fate that had him involved in another conflict so soon after he had helped cut down the Mad King.  Fate that had him meet another prince leading his own militia, so short on everything but enemies.Either way, Robin refuses to bend to whatever destiny wants to shape out of him. He'll make his own choices, his own mistakes the way he always has. (And maybe, that's what Fate was counting on.)





	1. Goodbyes by Moonlight

Robin had awoken for the first time to blue eyes and a world on the precipice of disaster. His mind was hollowed out and foggy, knowledge unweighted and sometimes hard to reach. He was disoriented when his good samaritan offered a hand and everything shifted. “Chrom” came forth, appearing on his tongue like it had always been there when his own name stayed absence.

_‘Robin, you say? Is that foreign?’_ Chrom asked when his name slotted between his teeth but Robin couldn't answer. It was almost easy to believe he hadn't lived the twenty-plus years that time had carved out into his body, with a face not even the villagers they saved recognised though he must have passed through - he  _had_ to have, to reach where they’d found him sprawled in the grass.

Robin’s origin seems unreachable, with the few belongings on his person - his weapons, a small bag of coin, a compass and a journal full with nothing but notations which said little about who he was or where he had come from. He's obviously of Plegian descent, he’d learn through his physical attribute and his attire but it didn’t ring any clearer bell than Ylisse itself, though he did recall the language once he’d heard the bandits attacking the Longfort speak in it.

_'It wasn’t much of a surprise,’_ Lissa states when Robin enquired at the lack of reaction when he’d started to translate the orders from their opponents’ side, allowing for easy counters. ‘ _You kinda speak with an accent, so it was easy to guess that Plegian would be your first language.’_ She’d shrugged then, like it was nothing of import and went back to her meal.

There was just so much Robin was ignorant of; his mind was a wasteland filled with but one nightmarish recollection which felt so tangible, it could have been real. He could almost sense himself channeling lightning, while thick smouldering mana encircled his hand as he pushes the concentrated bolt through bone and blood. It haunts him in his dreams; Chrom's face going lax, along with the ghosts of people Robin would soon come across in these campaigns he’s championed. People he’s been unable to save or who he's been forced to kill.

Sleep soon became a graveyard of failures and mistakes and sometimes, darkly, Robin would wonder if it was better than the alternative. That being if Robin stayed the blank slate he’d been when he’d woken up at his new beginning, without memory or place to go. If he’d just stayed asleep.

For all Robin’s apparent talent in warfare, having amnesia made him vulnerable. It was a huge undertaking Chrom and his Shepherds had accepted by taking him in, by guiding and supporting him until he was less impressionable. Because having no memory meant he’d no experience to call on, and it’d been easy to see despite being peers with most of his companions that they were not on equal footing.

For all Robin could accomplish, for however much skill he had as a tactician; able to read the health and strength of any man put in front of him, plan and meet objects, map out terrain, he’d been lacking as a person.

The first time he offered his help to Ricken in penning a letter to his parents, the boy looked surprised though he’d gratefully accepted however unsuccessfully that first attempt had been. ‘ _You’d just been…unapproachable, when you first joined,’_ the mage stated later on.  _‘You were really quiet and you’d kinda - stare at people, like you were looking through them. Ah! But you’re better now! You laugh and smile and…people can tell you care about them; that you’re not imagining chest pieces when you see them.’_

Robin hadn’t meant any offence but he’d just been so empty at the beginning and it was only due to the people around him that he ever got full, though he can imagine how trying it must have been for them. He found he was sarcastic and often lacked tack when he spoke and etiquette had been tricky to be reintroduced to.

Cooking for example, was a life skill, and yet a concept he couldn't quite grasp. With Frederick's help he soon had the basics but everything he touched was dull and baseless. Edible, at least but with no personality. None of the Shepherds would complain when it was his turn to prepare the food - he wasn't Sully, who'd made it a practice to poison people on accident, but...he also knew there wasn't much chance he'd get better. He struggled to discern his own characteristics, never mind add them to food. 

Robin's ineptitude was treated more like a quirk than a flaw and the Shepherds were quick to forgive any accidental slight on his part. Whether that be in words or in action. Why they’d bothered was beyond him, they’d have probably been better off without the added struggle of someone who’d forgotten how to live. However, it was his job as Chrom’s tactician to learn everything he could about himself and his men, men he needed to know how to command.

The more Robin came to understand, the more he felt and experienced, the less of a shell - less of an imitation he became. He grew closer to these people, he grew closer to Chrom. Chrom who’d trusted him despite his heritage, who’d follow his lead. Chrom who’d captured Robin’s attention since that first introduction, since he’d first taken Chrom’s hand. Chrom who gave Robin a home without cause, who looked after Robin in his own abrupt but caring way.

It could have just been the frequency in which they saw each other, with long nights pouring over maps while readjusting strategy. Afternoons spent sparing until their muscles were sore, Robin’s mana spent and his sword arm weak. Days enduring battle after battle, guarding each other’s backs - maybe it was that, but what had started off as innocent, as a blossoming friendship, soon…wasn’t.

A tension had seeped between them that Robin couldn’t fully understand though their interactions were comfortable despite the weight of it there. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, if he was  _meant_ to do anything about it but it didn’t go away. Things changed in subtle ways, with tactile touches becoming lingering moments, and a throwaway look became long shared glances.

It hadn’t been unpleasant, he could even say with some hesitance that Robin enjoyed it; enjoyed that they were coming closer and enjoyed the attention however nervous it made him, it also seemed special. Robin enjoyed it, but wasn’t sure he should and then he wasn’t sure he shouldn’t. 

The tension broke one evening. Their company just finished clearing the surrounding area of Risen on their march back to Ferox. He and Chrom decided to take a breather once they were settled into camp and were safe; everyone deserved a break, they had more than earnt it. Only a day but it was more than any of them had had in some time, and it was a reliever of the pressing responsibility hanging over their heads.

Even with such a brief respite, Robin hadn’t known what to do with himself, so after making sure they had setup patrol around their makeshift campsite Robin had left his men to their own devices. He didn’t want to step on any ones toes so he’d returned to his shared tent which was positioned near the convoy, and decided to go to his reading pile and plucked one off the admittedly tall stack of books.

Robin has was near half way to the middle of the binding when Chrom had pushed his way through the tent flap of their shared living, of which the prince insisted after Robin had been foolish enough to faint from overworking.

_‘Rob -’_ Chrom begun but he’d paused on looking up and seeing Robin sat on his cot, legs up off the floor and spine curled around his book.  _‘Why am I not surprised?’_

Robin started, eyes jarring up from the text in front of him to be greeted by Chrom’s amused smile. He blinked before his mind cottoned on.  _‘Like you weren’t out destroying practice dummies,’_ he retorted, knowing that Chrom was just as predicable.

_‘Vaike,’_ Chrom corrects with a wolfish grin and Robin struggles not to return it. Vaike was hopeless to a challenge but Chrom had definitely been forced to grow stronger and had been pummelling Vaike for awhile.

_‘Like I said,’_ Robin huffed back laughter,  _‘practice dummies.’_ His daft fingers quickly dogeared the page he was on even if he paused in closing it.

Chrom engaged no restraint and chuckled freely while causally entering the tent while attempting to remove the armour which protected him. He was fiddling with the gauntlets that wrapped around his wrists and forearms as he stops in the centre of the floor. Robin doesn’t react but for a raised eyebrow. All that armour was a but much but - ah, Frederick must have been up and about.

Finally closing his book and putting it off to the side, Robin shifted in preparation to get up, languidly stretched out the kinks and knots that had formed in his muscles and joints. He was stiff from sitting hunched over for so long and pulled his arms over his head, back arching as he tried to relieve the rigidity in himself. Idly, he acknowledged that his shirt lifted with his shoulders, exposing his stomach to the evening chill without his robe or belts. He deemed it unimportant. 

His neck was still aching when he breathed out but he got up to amble over to Chrom’s side, who’d frozen and watchful as Robin approached. Robin noticed and tried to smile despite his confusion.  _‘Need a hand, Milord?’_  he attempted to tease as he knew Chrom’s armour in particular required aid in doing up and removal. Robin, himself, had become familiar with helping Chrom and didn’t wait for much of a response before he reached forward.

Unintentionally their fingers brushed as Robin replaces Chrom’s on the top ties. Robin’s heart thumped loudly in his ears and he suddenly became very aware of Chrom’s presence, and has no idea why it suddenly takes so much of his focus.

 _‘Robin,’_ Chrom breathed and Robin can’t quite pick out the tone but it brought heat to his face. The reaction would have baffled him more if not for the strange magnetism that was drawing the two of them together. Not sure what to do with the sudden shift in atmosphere, he kept his gaze set on the gauntlet as he nimbly untied it.

 _We’ve done this a hundred times before,_ Robin thought as they coordinate so that Robin can remove the other one. He can sense something building, Chrom’s heavy gaze, the heat as Robin deposits the pieces of steel onto the foldable desk nearby. He’s tried to refocus onto Chrom’s chest plate, worried that should he pause too long something would change.

Chainmail is next and without thinking, Robin found himself smoothing Chrom’s tunic down from where it had risen. Underneath his palm Chrom’s heart was beating wildly, like the prince was still back outside, training.

Chrom swallowed.  _‘You - you’ve been reading all this time?’_ Chrom asked as the silence continued but his voice is rough. Robin needed to - move, didn’t he?

‘ _Yes,’_ Robin replied as he tried to figure out the anticipation that was unsettling his stomach.  _‘And you, with training?’_

_‘Vaike was…insistent,’_  Chrom agreed, leaning closer. Robin can smell him, and it hits the back of this throat like a punch to the gut. ' _I wasn’t planning on being out for so long.’_

‘ _Well, at least you were being productive,_ ’ Robin commented in distraction.

Chrom hummed and Robin can almost feel it.  _‘You must have been lonely.’_

‘ _I -’_ Robin found his voice deserting him when Chrom touched him, using his forefinger and thumb on Robin’s chin to tilt his head. He blinked up at the eyes he’d been too nervous to meet and couldn't help but stare at enlarged pupils, how the candle light makes them seem feverish.

Robin couldn't bring himself to pull away though he had no more reason to be this close other than Chrom’s shinguards. Why did he want to get closer? ‘ _I - I have to apologise for my straightforwardness, Robin,’_ Chrom murmured. Robin couldn’t look away if he tried. _‘But…you feel it as well, don’t you? Because I… when I stop to admire you, I see you looking at me, too.’_

Robin’s throat felt tight.  _‘Chrom -’_

_‘Have you felt this pull - this attraction as much as I have?’_ Chrom asked desperately as his thumb began to trace the path of Robin’s lips. It was startling and sent a shock through Robin’s body. He got tingles that he couldn't relate to many things but it was vaguely familiar, if not immediately identifiable.

_Attraction?_ Robin found himself mentally repeating. He knew the word but he only knew it through hazy impressions he made with the Shepherds; Stahl and Sully as they circle each other, Lissa and her pink cheeks whenever Lon’qu was in the vicinity. Robin knew it from that first time, listening to the ripping Ricken received in his regards to Maribelle after he’d risked so much to rescue her.

(Robin hadn’t understood straight away. He’d just seen one comrade looking out for another. Because that’s what you did, wasn’t it? Lisa had realised Robin’s confusion quickly and had giggled into his ear.  _‘They’re trying to tease Ricken by implying that he_ likes  _Maribelle.’_

Robin hadn’t even blinked.  _‘Should he not like her? They’re both of Ylisse and -’_

Lissa shook her had with a severe pout pulling at her mouth.  _‘No! Jeez, not in_ that  _way. They’re saying he’s - he’s_ attracted  _to her!’)_

_‘Chrom.’_ Robin swallowed as he tried to work it out, Attraction - attraction could make sense but, how was he to know? How was he to be sure? ‘ _Is - Is that…would that be alright?’_ Wasn’t there rules? Procedure? He’d gotten good at noticing when two of his men started to fall for each other, but he never went out of his way to watch the courting.

Chrom smiled crookedly. ‘ _There is nothing wrong with it if there is desire on both sides,’_ he responded and Robin could hear something like excitement in his voice.  _‘I am not wrong, am I?’_

_‘I -’_ Robin felt himself hesitating.  _‘I…are there not conventions, to -’_

Chrom shushed him.  _‘Just tell me you feel the same. That’s all I need. Turn off that big brain of yours and…allow me? Please?’_

Robin’s uncertainty didn’t lessen but when one of Chrom’s hands slid to the small of his back, sneaking up under his shirt, Robin found himself gasping, a bundle of nerves coming alive to the the brush of Chrom’s fingers. His body trembled in response and he was not ignorant enough to not know the heat that curled in his loins, though he hadn’t ever been very proactive with arousal.

Robin found himself wanting then, and brings his other hand onto Chrom’s chest to lean in.  _‘This will be okay?’_

Chrom brought their lips together and the feeling  _sizzled_ , warm and wet. The noise in his mind quietened by the time they parted. Chrom smiled his assertion, lips redder then before and Robin found himself trusting.  _If… if this is where Chrom is leading us, than, it had to be okay,_ Robin thought as he surrendered himself.

It was a clumsy coupling with Robin unsure what to do; of where to touch and how to move. Chrom laughed his concerns away after the fact, saying that it’d been “adorable”. Robin recalled very little of it beyond moments of enhanced breathing, the noise of every thrust, Chrom's grunts the first time Chrom pushed in…

It’d been quite the blur when Robin had woken up after the fact, tired and sore, in an empty bed, alone in a tent too big for just one. It’d been embarrassing getting up and getting on with things but Chrom had behaved like nothing had happened at breakfast, which should have been relieving even if his stomach had twisted itself into knots.

At night though, Chrom was affectionate and tactile. Robin tried his best with going through the motions of what he thought was a relationship, while trying not to do his duty as a tactician. It was a balancing act, one he foolishly put himself under in an incorrect impression.

_‘What are your plans after the war?’_ Chrom had enquired the night before their final march.

_‘You mean if I survive this next battle?’_  Robin had said, mostly in jest.

Chrom sighed, arm tightening around Robin’s waist. ‘ _Please do not speak like that,’_ he asked of Robin who wasn’t sure how to respond to the tension underlying his voice.  _‘I… wish you to return with us to Ylisse. I know it may be a selfish request - that you may want to go and find your past…’_

_‘I hope your library is prepared for me,’_  Robin had joked with a shaky smile, heart in his throat as he agreed to follow Chrom home.

Their nightly encounters slowed by the time they returned to Ylisstol and settled into the castle and their new roles. Like he was promised, Robin was introduced to the library and put to work as Chrom’s advisor, a go-between for the Council and the newly appointed King. There was a lot to do and soon enough Robin found himself buried in paperwork, sorting through documentation and bills.

It was on one such evening that Sumia came for a visit. Robin had become quite close to the pegasus knight with their shared interest with books and he’d been glad to see her until she’d said so unassumingly, so happy that she was  _glowing: ‘Oh Robin, I have wonderful news!’_

He’d stood from his chair, his desk between them. ‘ _I should say so,’_ Robin had responded.  _‘Sit, sit down.’_

Sumia sat in the guest chair usually filled with Chrom or one of the Shepherds in his new office.  _‘I’m getting married!’_ she exclaimed which had been exciting even if Robin was confused since the last he knew, Sumia was single and hadn’t entered into a courtship.

_‘That’s brilliant!’_ Robin had smiled before asking to see the ring, thinking that this new development had happened while he’d been tied down. He hadn’t wanted to make things awkward by asking after who’d proposed, but when Sumia offered her hand for him to take, for him to see the ring, Robin knew instantly and his heart gave one large squeeze.

The ring bore Naga’s brand.

_‘It’s wonderful -’_ Robin begun automaticially as he felt his face heat.

_‘His parents had it made for his birth,’_ Sumia offered in her exuberance.  _‘Isn’t it lovely?’_

Robin nodded as he kept his eyes on the ring, even as he released it. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Sumia’s gaze and desperately looked back to his work, to the taxes he’d been calculating for the next council meeting. ‘ _Yes.’_ He swallowed as he held onto his composure by his fingertips.  _‘You - must tell me about it once I’m less busy.’_

 _‘_ Oh!’ Robin can hear Sumia’s surprise at the obvious dismissal but luckily, it’d become nothing unusual for Robin to be short on time.  _‘Oh, of course! I’m sorry for disturbing you!’_

The double entendre would have been amusing if it wasn’t so tragic. There was a bitter taste in Robin’s mouth as he nods Sumia away. The door shut, and he took a breath, another before a strangled sound leaves him. Paper crumbled under his hands as he slumped forward.

_Idiot,_ Robin thought.  _You’re an idiot._

It hadn’t meant anything to Chrom. Robin had simply been - warming his bed. That’s what all that - that  _nonsense_ had been. Nothing, nothing but relieving stress as the men in the taverns would grin about. Taverns, he’d learnt so much from them; things that he simply couldn’t ask one of the other Shepherds. (They didn't like to leave him there, Maribelle was especially disapproving before he had explained. That he was very susceptible to alcohol and their worry doubled.)  

Robin felt embarrassed and hurt and ashamed that he felt embarrassed and hurt. Ashamed because this was obviously  _his_ misunderstand,  _his_ fault, _his_ ignorance. He choked, his throat so tight it was like the situation itself was strangling him.  _What were you_ thinking _? What have you done, Robin?_ he asked himself.

His eyes burnt and he bit his lip. Robin straightened himself and picked up his pen, and forced himself to hold himself together. Robin would not cry over this.  _He would not._

He hadn’t. Robin had continued staring blankly at his report until Lissa came to get him. He got up automatically and allowed himself to be pulled along to dinner. He barely noticed the people already there, all Robin could concentrate on was not falling apart. Lissa pushed him into a chair beside Chrom who pulled it out from the under the table.

Robin tried not to fall into it, waited for people to begin to eat before he started to force food into his mouth. Half way through the meal, Chrom, Sumia at his side, asked for the attention of the room to announce their engagement. Robin could barely hear the reaction but he almost jumped out of his skin when Chrom clapped him on the shoulder.

_‘Right, Robin?’_

Robin thinks he smiled.  _‘Sorry, what was it?’_

Chrom swallowed.  _‘I -Sully asked who my best man would be.’_

Robin blinked. ‘ _Right.’_

‘ _…would_ you _be, is what I asked.’_

‘ _Oh.’_ Robin blinked again. It felt like there are pebbles in his eyes, a clamp around his heart and an arrow in his back as he agreed. He couldn't do anything but. He and Chrom were - friends? Friends. And Chrom valued him. Wanted him there, at his side. 

(Just not in the way Robin wanted, not in the way - but it was not for him to  _want._ It was wrong.)

_‘Good,’_ Chrom breathed.  _‘That’s - that’s great. I can’t wait to hear your speech.’_

Robin wrote one and hates every word. But he wrote it and he spoke it, standing by passively as Chrom swears himself to another. Robin does his job, he does it and knows afterwards, or before, that he couldn’t stay; he couldn’t stay and watch this. It - it wasn’t fair to Chrom and it was especially not fair to Sumia.

With that in mind, he manages to complete everything that Chrom needed for the next few months; left organised on his desk with a note he couldn’t bring himself to apologise in. Robin didn’t fully explain the abruptness of his leaving, didn’t know a way to lie about it, to write about it without humiliating himself, without hurting anyone.

He packed a singled bag, with only the few things he had managed to buy himself once he’d started to earn a wage for his service. It was light - making up for his heavy shoulders, but then that just made it all the more convenient. Robin left his journal packed full of notes and anecdotes of the Shepherds and his books on his desk and filling his shelves. They weren’t truly Robin's and he had no real place to take them with him.

Robin watched as the sun settled behind the horizon and travelled through the castle with the moon and torchlight as his guide as he shouldered his travel bag to leave. He walked a route he didn’t usually go by, but the staff and castle residents had come to greeting him when they saw him and he hadn’t wanted to get stopped. Funny, how that went.

‘Robin,’ the voice called from behind and Robin couldn’t help but tense even as he slowed to a stop. He didn’t turn around.  _‘Robin,’_ the voice insists.

Sighing, Robin looks over his shoulder to face Frederick’s deep frown and stiff posture that had come to characterise the knight. They are located in the staff’s passageways, shortcuts made for maids to carry laundry baskets or dinner without worrying about other traffic. It was typically empty at this time of night though, save for the guarded door Robin was near which would lead him out into the courtyard.

The silence drags as Robin finds he has nothing left to say, not now - not anymore. He’s too embarrassed, left feeling vulnerable and filled with regret. The light is dim, with minimal torchlight as the passageway was too thin, with fire swallowing too much of the air; the windows which couldn’t even fit an arrow head through, did little but Robin was still glad of his hood; for the security it brought. The secret he harboured, kept buried in his chest of what he’d done with Chrom, made him feel powerless to those who looked at him.

‘You’re leaving,’ Frederick says as a statement, with knowledge that is too sharp.

Nodding never works well with his hood up so Robin reluctantly opens his mouth. ‘Yes.’

‘You won’t be returning.’ Again, it’s too knowing. Robin feels sick at the direct way Frederick stares.

‘No.’ Robin had no plans to. He had come to love Ylisse and her people but coming back would just be reopening a wound which he knew is self-inflicted. Sumia especially deserved not to have him ruining her marriage, or her pregnancy that was announced just days ago.

‘Robin -’

‘I’ve finished my duties,’ Robin cut in, heart in his throat. ‘And…left suggestions for a new advisor. My letter of resignation is on my desk with my goodbyes and I’ve made sure to take only what is mine -’

‘Robin,’ Frederick’s calm voice comes to interrupt, which is unusual for such a proper man. ‘Where will you even go? There’s still tension between our boarders with Plegia, and Risen still roam the lands…’

Robin shifts his weight, can’t help but feel uneasy. ‘Anna has told me the route to the Outrealm Gate,’ he admits as he knew before he decided he could not stay that there’s nowhere for him to go that would not cause trouble for his people, so somewhere that was off their map, somewhere he would not cause someone trouble. That Anna volunteered this information to him while he’d still been struggling to work out what he was to do, had implications that Robin preferred not to think about.

Frederick’s eyes widen by a hair. ‘You’re serious about this.’

That doesn’t deserve much of a response. ‘Yes.’

Frederick released a deep sigh. ‘There’s nothing I can say to persuade you to stay?’

A weak smile tilts Robin’s lips. ‘Never thought I’d hear something like that from you.’

Frederick coughs and continues sounding inordinately awkward. ‘I wish to apologise for -’

Robin holds up a hand to stop those words. ‘You owe me no apologises. You were doing your duty as a knight and as Chrom’s protector. I feel no animosity to you for your caution,’ he states and though it hadn’t been a nice welcome, he’d understood Frederick.

‘Your's will be a large loss for Ylisse,’ Frederick says regretfully. It loosened something in Robin to hear that, to hear someone - appreciate him. To hear that he’d made a positive difference.

However, ‘she will recover,’ Robin says with certainty. He closes his eyes as he refuses to be allowed to be talked into staying. He’d made up his mind and he will not allow himself to be swayed. It’ll be better off for everyone.

‘I…I had a feeling that we wouldn’t be able to keep you,’ Frederick mutters before he is striding forward and in the dark, with this tension, Robin cannot help but take a step back. It does not dissuade Frederick, however, who closes the distance and once they were but a foot apart, offers Robin his hand. ‘It was an honour to serve with you, Robin,’ the knight says.

Robin feels his eyes sting and makes sure to keep his head lowered even as he turns to clasp his hand into Frederick’s. He is wearing his gloves but it is as much contact as he has allowed himself to have in recent days, and Frederick - Frederick was without his armour, fitted in causal clothes instead of metal; a great sign of trust for a man who wore steel like a second skin.

‘I’m glad that…you were one of the people to find me,’ Robin returns despite the pain it’d caused him. ‘Thank you for your teachings.’

As they release one another, Frederick reaches behind his back to pull out a small pouch which Robin takes after some hesitance and prompting. ‘Coin,’ Frederick explains and Robin goes instantly to refuse it. ‘Take it, if only to pay the toll. The Outrealm Gate always demands one.’

Robin’s throat is tight and allows the pouch to be pressed into his palm. He feels the weight and wonders why Frederick thought to bring this here but maybe it's for the same reason that Frederick followed him, or knew to find him to start with.

‘Thank you, my friend,’ Robin says instead.

Frederick shakes his head, and briefly squeezes Robin’s shoulder. ‘Think nothing of it.’ Frederick’s smile is small, kind of gruff but it slots on his face with little difficulty. It reminds Robin that Frederick is younger than he appears. ‘My Lord and Ylisse owe you a great debt.’

The hollow feeling returns and Robin nods, distracts himself with tying the pouch to his belt. Silently he pays his goodbyes and turns; the exit is in sight and he knows that with his authority, he’ll be able to use it without alarm, though not without confusion.

‘Robin,’ Frederick calls out again. ‘…stay safe.’

Grim amusement fills Robin. ‘I don’t have much luck with that,’ he responds somewhat glibly as he knocks on the gate to gain the guards’ attention, so that they can open it from their side. He listens to the sound of the bolt cranking.

‘Then -!’ Frederick exclaims in a moment which was atypical for him, even as Robin straightens as the gate is opened and a torch is shined into his face for identification. ‘Be happy.’

'Lord Robin,' the guard acknowledges, with nary a stutter though he is taken a back, face surprised beneath his helmet even as he steps away to let Robin through. To let Robin leave.

Swallowing down a strange bitterness, Robin doesn’t bother to tell Frederick the unlikeliness of that and he walks out. His pace is hurried, though he is desperate not to run and he whispers a soft, “goodbye” behind him.


	2. Promotions Swept In

Mikoto has been waiting on a traveller for years, having foreseen a man who would stand beside her sweet Kamui through tough choices and long battles and terrible hardship. A man Mikoto was meant to find long after her child was lost to her, whom she had to help so that this man could be in a position to help her boy. Information on the traveller was limited but she knew enough that she was determined to do whatever she could to ensure they meet.

Reina was just a step behind her, taking up her left side with her arms full of a wrapped bundle of clothing; something which Mikoto had just only recently purchased and had been maintaining since she recognised the time was upon her. She had not explained as she did not like to speak of her Visions for fear that she should undo what her Sight had shown to her. It could be a ridiculous phobia but this was one she would not risk, even to superstition.

Orochi had been the one accompanying Mikoto on her recent journeys to the lake, clothes in tow and curious but patient for days that Mikoto had been insisting on these outings. Reina had offered her services when Orochi had had an errand she needed to complete today. Her knight was perplexed herself, with Mikoto’s recent unsolved business travelling so far away from the safety of their castle walls. She'd said as much.

‘Pardon me, Milady,’ Reina continues, practiced and soft. ‘But…this is quite unorthodox.’

Mikoto hums.  _Yes,_ but then she had been cursed with an “unorthodox” reign. The husband she had allowed herself fall in love with; the previous king to Hoshido had been killed and before his corpse cooled, her son was being spirited away. Ryoma. Her child through bonds along had been so severely shaken, he had had asked if Mikoto might hold regency until he be ready, until he felt worthy.

Add to that, her Sight, which came with a certain amount of strangeness attached to the ability as she attempts to aid or negate what she Sees and she knows this word to be true. Her visions can be small like Sakura having a fall, while other times it was more importance. Crucial events could appear before her, that could lead to more change than a simple bruised hands and scurfy skin.

Mikoto never denied that she didn't set the precedent for the unusual.

‘You have my apologises, Reina.’ Mikoto laughed for all there was little she could do about it. Reina seemed to enjoy her post regardless, treated it like an honour even if perhaps she were better suited to the battlefields with the rest of their men. ‘This, however, is quite important. I am afraid you will have to bear it for now.’

‘Of course,’ Reina responds, agreeable like always. Mikoto had heard the whispers when she’d chosen Reina as her retainer as rumours of bloodlust had not been exaggerated. Mikoto knew that there were those who maintained the idea that a woman who became so heated in battle was not suited to the courts; to be charged with their ruler’s protection.Mikoto did not care with such thoughts, she had her reasons and Reina was perfectly delightful. She had not, nor would she ever regret Reina’s promotion.

Mikoto could start to catch sight of the water’s edge and she quickens her pace as her heart pounds in anticipation. She had love for the waterside, having found the shining surface beautiful, with not one look the same. Now looking came with a danger she could ill-afford and she only neared it when necessary or else not at all.

(It was a portal, after all. A portal to a place she had once called home before everything was broken and silence had fallen but for a single song that had remained resilient. A single song that foretold a future Mikoto knew that she would not be around to witness) 

Approaching closer to the lake, Mikoto had expected it to be empty terrain, like every other time if not, a Faceless from where her power was at it’s weakest. Or even Azura who was known to come to her namesake seeking solitude from the scorn she had to endure at the castle despite Mikoto’s best efforts to make her welcome.

(Valla shadowed her memories; she’d known such happiness there despite life’s ups and downs. She had had a sister and her husband, her niece. She had met the man who would afford her a son, but with pleasure brought twice the pain. Even what she had now, what remained of that time - or what she had gotten back, was broken. Her relationship with Azura would never be what it should and that hurt her.)

Instead, Mikoto clasps eyes on a cloaked figure. Her heart stalled, her breath pauses but after a single moment of stillness she had lost her composure and is sprinting towards them. Hyper focused, she stinks in their sight as she draws near with all the grace of an armoured horse with a broken leg.

Her hair and priestess robes flare out behind her and Reina hurries after her, stalled only with the worry that she should drop her parcel. The closer they get, the more Mikoto can see of - him, soaking wet and on his hands and knees, painting a wheezing noise as if winded. Her Sight did not show her where this man had come from and if not for his dress, Mikoto would have thought he had been brought through from the portal as it appeared he’d been branched.

If not then accidentally transported into the lake as no one went swimming fully dressed. Mikoto sets the speculation aside, couldn’t care less where he’d come from. The traveller had  _come,_ that was enough and he was likely to face questions from every face he meets.

The traveller heard them; it would not have been hard with their speed and the weight of their clothing. Mikoto doesn’t doubt that they would have sounded like a cloud of wyverns. His head snaps in their direction. Eyes wide and round, coloured cinnamon meet hers. She drinks in his face, the high flush on his cheeks, with skin more comparable to those of the Flame Tribe; how it shines under the sun.

Though she had Seen him, it was another thing entirely to do so through her Mind’s Eye and have him in front of her. Mikoto found herself liking his hair in particular, it’s wild nature, sopping and stuck to his forehead in a way that was quite endearing. The cut was uneven, like he had been trimming it himself and the colour reminded her of pure silk or snowfall or -

(or even the pearls her mother used to wear, a Valla jewel that had come from the water too. Precious but not overly rare, many wore. Mikoto had been gifted a single strand herself, a necklace to honour her coming of age though not even their slender had made her stubborn strength desirable.)

She stops not far from him, not wanting to startle him as she refolds her hands in front of her. Her stapled fingers tighten on each other, in nerves as the traveller’s gaze assess them in sharp, calculated movements of one who has seen battle.

‘Good Morn,’ Mikoto greets in what she knows is accented Nohrian. Though Hoshidan was far from her mother tongue  _either,_ she had become familiar with it, unfortunately she had had much less practice with the former but she did not want to start off on the wrong foot. ‘A good time for a swim?’

‘I…’ The man blinks up at her, glancing back at Reina who remains silent. ‘An unexpected time,’ he corrects as he reaches up with a hand encased in gloves and rather stiff gauntlets to brush his hair out of his face. The sleeve of his robe, lengthen and heavy through its getting soaked almost hits and it’s almost comical how he flinches back from it.

‘The location you decided is rather unusual,’ Mikoto comments as the travellers shrugs off the robe to present a slender body with wiry muscles, wearing a more fitting golden jacket and a belt inlaid with three smaller and a sword sheathed on the left, a tome hung on the right. The weapons were varied in both skill and range, and fine of quality that spoke of his ability. ‘This area is of course cut off from the public.’

The traveller freezes for a moment, shoulders rounding in tension. ‘…then you have my apologises, I am - new, here.’

Mikoto inclines her head. ‘Of that I have no doubt.’

The traveller’s eyes narrow an inch though it is not an aggressive gesture. ‘I must have startled you.’ The statement is probing, and it is obvious he is trying to work this encounter out; trying to rationalise it.

‘Not as such,’ Mikoto denies with Reina’s attention is a burning thing at her side. ‘Stranger things have happened and this particular lake is known to bring…travellers.’

‘Travellers,’ the man repeats like he can sense what Mikoto is not saying. Her stomach coils uneasily but she can convince herself that this is a good thing; this will just aid her son more, when the time is right.

‘The down side,’ Mikoto says with a grim smile as she avoids that particular subject, ‘is that travellers end up half drowned. Not everything survives the journey.’  _Not everyone,_ of that she was painfully aware.

The man freezes and then his sight is darting to his belt and with half bitten off expletives, he is scrambling to remove the tome secured at his hip. Mikoto settles back at his distraction, watching as he removes it and palms it with a familiarity that foretold his seniority with it but it does not open; the pages are stuck together, nothing more than pulp.

His face crumbles and his eyes squeeze closed. Mikoto thinks of her husband, and his connection to Raijinto had been a scarred thing. She had once thought such attitudes were foolishness but she had learnt from warriors and her own battles how untrue that was. She was sympathetic to the traveller if not relieved that he was such a man.

‘The sword should be undamaged,’ Mikoto offers gently. It would take a longer time and a blade of inferior quality for it rust, however if the sword was imbued with mana or given an element even a short dip could ruin it.

The man simply grimaces, giving his tome one last look before fastening it back onto his belt. ‘Of course,’ he mutters, ‘of course  _this_ blade…’ He does reach for his scabbard though and he pulls it free. Mikoto, a Queen of Hoshido, knew of swords and recognised this one as a rapier before he has even freed the blade though she can tell its expense as soon as it is glinting in daylight.

The man examines it for a brief moment before he is glancing to the sheath, tipping it to check for water. His lips tighten in what seems to be frustration but he wipes the blade carefully in his damp cloak for excess water.

‘This blade?’ Mikoto enquires as his conflicted feelings over the rapier are all too apparent despite it’s meticulous condition. The tome was treated like something to mourn; therefore something  _precious,_ with the blade, it was like the traveller was - regretfully. That it had survived.

He startles like he had forgotten them, caught up in himself as he had gotten and he blushes a deep peach colour as he readdresses them. ‘I - it was gifted to me, by someone that…’ like he doesn’t know how to continue, like he cannot bare to.

A sore subject Mikoto had stumbled on.

‘They must have cared for you,’ Mikoto volunteers but that just seems to make the traveller look sadder, infinitely sadder in fact. Which made it a sorer one. ‘…I had not meant to presume -’

The man takes a breath, greatly pained for a moment. ‘The presumptions are all mine. Please, do not let me trouble you.’

Despite this, Mikoto finds herself troubled. A sword - as a gift, was a statement. One of protection or loyalty. At its worst, it can mean death but no man would carry such an insult. That sword had been given with good intentions which means there is a story.

‘I had not meant to upset you,’ Mikoto says because she knows that every man has history and whatever vague grasp over the future she many hold, she should not forget that.

The man shakes his head. ‘I upset myself,’ he responds thickly as he slides the sword back onto his belt like he would much rather forget it even as he continues to carry its weight. ‘I…I wouldn’t suppose you might tell me where I have landed?’

A deflection. Simple, easily recognisable. Mikoto found herself okay with that. Hurt was difficult to face, never mind confront with a stranger. It may never become her business, old buried pasts should sometimes stay behind ones self.

‘Would you be lost?’ Reina asks before Mikoto can respond. She does not usually interject in Mikoto’s conversations; knows that she could be speaking on behalf of Hoshido but the man seems Nohrian through his style of dress, his tongue, the weapons he handles. Because of that, he is also a greater risk and they had lost enough royalty.

Her question brings about that same grieving expression only now it is infinitely more complicated. It makes the traveller seem - younger, as he self-consciously rubs one hand on his other, like he is attempting to soothe an ache.

‘“lost”…’ the man repeats like it doesn’t fit inside his mouth, his face forces a smile that looks more like a grimace. ‘That probably isn’t the word you need. Lost infers that you know where you come from but not where you have gone. I - I, have the exact opposite problem.’

‘Pardon me?’ Reina’s brow lowers in confusion, mouth flattening further.

The man sighs. ‘I am afraid to tell you that I have very little memory of time beyond what I have made from a few years prier,’ Robin explained flatly and Mikoto found herself sympathising, unable to hear deception in his voice, carefully chosen though his words were. ‘I do not recall where I come from; my family or any life I may have had.’

Maybe that was why he seemed so upset - why his eyes looked like broken crystal no one had tried to piece back together. More likely, it was connected with the sense of loss she felt for him, that he wore it like armour that he could not take off by himself.Reina looks conscious of that and the hardness of her face smoothes over, even if her guard is still raised.

‘I apologise.’ Reina was cautious not callous and outside the battlefield she tried her best to be gracious.

‘No need.’ The man is quick to dismiss any slight against his character which isn’t an entirely positive trait. ‘You are entitled to your suspicions.’

There was an awkward silence that settled afterwards as the man shifted. ‘I - you wouldn’t mind if I ask where am I? An -  _ah…_ my - guide, didn’t think to tell me.’ Travelling without destination and to wind up here? Maybe not through the lake where Mikoto had immediately suspected but if he did not know the name than he was not from this land. He had certainly been transported, there was no other way for him to be here.

‘Hoshido,’ Mikoto responds with a smile, trying to make the man feel more at ease. The way he tilted his head was rather cute and she almost laughed at how his brow crinkled.

‘Hosheedoh,’ the man attempts to repeat with the same cumbersome pronunciation that would rival any actual Nohrian. Mikoto doesn’t need to look at Reina to know her wince. Mikoto thinks little of it; understands the difficult of first having to strengthen her own Hoshidan after she moved -

(After Valla fell and knowing another’s tongue was far more important than the causal words she had otherwise been taught. It had cause relative difficulty in her life but after everything else she had faced, it was deemed just another obstacle she needed to overcome.)

Having to study Nohrian after barely knowing the basics of Hoshidan had been enough to make her head spin. It was, however what had been expected of her and she hadn’t had the option of not raising to the anticipation. There had been too many people wanting her to fail, in the beginning.

‘Yes.’ Mikoto nods. ‘We are the Eastern half of the continent of Kismet or “ _Unmei_ ” in Hoshidan.’ 

The man’s brow knots and his confusion is obvious. ‘In Hoshidan? Than what language is this?’

Mikoto blinks but answers even as her suspicions are confirmed. ‘Nohrian,’ She replies, the word tasting bitter on her tongue even if she swallows it down. ‘It is the language of our western half: Nohr. There is…no love lost between us.’

On hearing this, the man groans, his hands going up to scrub his face as he collapses backwards to lay on the ground. Perhaps he was an eccentric? Than again, who  _did_ rejoice in hearing that one of the countries you found yourself in were at war with another? Still, she should ask. ‘I..is everything perfectly alright?’

For a moment he doesn’t answer until, in a flurry of movement that instantly unnerves Reina, he is sat back up and looking at the two of them warily. The sudden speak in the leeriness in his face puts Mikoto on edge despite herself. ‘I would ask your names, my ladies?’

Reina steps forward. It was considered below any monarch to introduce themselves. Mikoto hadn’t done so in years. ‘Allow me to present Queen of Hoshido, Lady Mikoto.’ She bows shallowly, raising her arm in indication. ‘I am her retainer, you may know me as Reina of the Himura family.

The man sort of…stares for awhile as Reina straightens, lips parted slightly and then he’s pinching the bridge of nose like he’s been slighted and now has to deal with the headache. Mikoto tries to wait this out but it has to be the weirdest reaction to her identity she has ever had and at his groan, offers: ‘Are you feeling well?’

The man sighs, heavy and long before he is rising from his position on the ground. ‘Yes, I apologise.’ Running a hand through his hair, he looks terribly uneasy and seems to forget that he hasn’t dried yet as several strands stand out oddly on his head. ‘My name is Robin.’

_Robin_ …Mikoto thinks, it must be foreign but it is…pleasant. She had once been told of a bird that shared the same name though they were not native to Hoshido. ‘Tis nice meeting you, Robin,’ she says as she bows lightly, pauses to wait for Robin to clumsily return it before rising again.

‘And - and you, Milady.’ Robin returns.

‘Perhaps you might think this forward…’ Mikoto pauses, has to be careful. ‘But may I ask what you were doing? In the years you have made?’

His eyes pinch but he does not refuse her. Whether that is because he does not think he can is entirely possible. ‘I…a group of people found me, helped me. We became friends. I spent from then to now on a journey, trying to…help,’ he murmurs, glancing back towards the lake. ‘I didn’t always manage it.’

Mikoto blinks at the admittance. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would have.’ The world was hard and for every goodness there was something bad to equal it. It was simply how the world kept balance. ‘Would you have been a sellsword?’ A travelling band of mercenaries wasn't exactly rare especially in times of conflict. Splitting coin was, after all, better than surrendering your life. 

Robin shakes his head. ‘Nothing of me is for sale, Milady,’ he tells her. ‘Not my sword nor my magic nor any other part of me.’

Though she knows better than to look down upon sellswords, she cannot help her first thought of:  _Good_. This pleases her more than she can say; this conviction. ‘Then, what did you journey for?’

Robin tilts his head like he is silently asking why Mikoto would want to know but he doesn’t. Instead, he folds his arms behind his back as if standing to attention in an air of nonchalance. ‘It might have been because I had nowhere else to go, but it was also the right thing to do,’ he explains, not bothering to try and paint himself in a better light nor be extravagant with his words. ‘There were many…conflicts. I was aiding the effort to stop that. Now I simply want to travel, maybe I can help again this time as well.’

‘And why would you feel the desire to do that?’ Mikoto enquires, trying to get a level of this man. It was intrusive but she asked only what she absolutely needed to know.

Robin grimaces, shifts in his still dripping clothing. He doesn’t look dissimilar to a drowned rabbit. Being the surrogate mother two four children and having birthed another, seeing someone, even a man of twenty years give or take, calls upon her instincts and yet Mikoto stays still.

‘I’m a tactician and I need to be helpful. What other uses do I have?’ Robin’s face shifts into a heartbreaking, self-depreciating smile that seems smothering. ‘Besides, I really do care about being able to aid people. If something is within my capabilities than I will act.’

‘You have come far,’ Mikoto states. ‘Your guide…’

Robin’s face shifts again. ‘Anna, of the…the Outrealm Gate,’ he responds, successfully gathering her meaning even if his tone is weighted. ‘I do not know if you are aware -’

‘You have travelled far indeed,’ Mikoto cuts in, halting is stammering. She knew of it, though the price to travel between worlds was weighty, if the gate keeper let you through at all. There were many a tale of people being sent away in refusal. ‘Here, I suppose will be very new to you.’

‘…yes, I suppose so,’ Robin responds as he waits.

‘You are not for sale,’ Mikoto states. ‘You are not for sale and I do not wish to buy you, but I would present you a proposition if you would be gracious enough to allow me to.’ Mikoto knows this man will be important to Kamui, though the Visions had been annoying vague _._ Giving her more - impressions of things, than allow her to actually  _see._

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Might I ask why you would want a foreign wanderer in your…service?’

‘Call it whimsy for now,’ Mikoto responds. It would not be a liked answer to a man so obviously sharp but she could not speak of whys. ‘You have my word on my honour that should you not like what I advocate you may leave without any complaint from me, freely.’

Robin looks between them before focusing on Mikoto again. His gaze is searching, deep but not overly aggressive. She begins to think he does not have it in his nature. ‘I may go at any time?’ he asks for confirmation.

‘Of course.’

‘And where would this talk take place?’

‘At Castle Shirasagi. It is a relatively short walk from here.’

Robin wavers. His lips pursue before loudly exhaling. ‘Lead the way, Lady Mikoto.’

A weight leaves her and Mikoto knows a part of the battle has been won. She feels a smile stretch her lips, feels the burn that expression gives her and cares less. She had little to be happy about in recent years and with all her losses smiling came a little harder.‘Then, if you please, strip down,’ she requests as she steps aside for Reina.

Large, cinnamon eyes stare at her. ‘Pardon -?’

‘Oh, it's no worry. It’s just to help you blend in. Reina will assist you.’

‘ _Assist_ ? Wait -   _wait_! Stop! Hold on-!’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did look to see if the continent actually had a name but...nope.(why). And I wasn't about to use "Fate". Both Kismet and Unmei share that meaning but I didn't want it to be so literal.
> 
> Language is never gone into in the game which is understandable. You don't need all that extra difficulty when you already have so much to cram in with so many different characters with varying origins. In saying that, language will be a thing here. Not a huge one but, well you'll see.
> 
> Oh! And why Robin has that type of sword will be explained further in a later chapter.


	3. Arrangements

The trek back to the castle was longer than Lady Mikoto had said it would be but that was likely Robin’s fault. He wasn’t as wet now, since he’d been freed from his sopping wet clothes and put into a foreign assumable. The closet thing he’d seen to the fashions in Ylisse were in books,from a small nation of Valm. The garments he’d had to have help into by the Lady Reina who’d shown little embarrassment in stripping him nor dressing him, slowed him down. 

Reina helped him shrug a plan “Kimono” over his bare shoulders. Robin would have ordinarily assumed it was some sort of jacket if he hadn’t already seen Lady Mikoto’s attire. Reina takes one side and folds it against his chest as he wraps the left in front and ties the two in place. Next, a pair of “Hakama” are put on him and the kimono is tucked in. The “Hera”, a small toggle is attached to the “Koshi-ita”, a stiff, board-like section on the back of these unorthodox trousers. It’s tucked into the top of the “obi”, a ribbon like belt, to keep the back of the hakama from sagging supposedly.

Robin felt very discomforted which only grew when stringed socks - “tabi”, that are modelled to leave a gap between his two toes. They made the slightest bit of sense when he saw the shoes. “Zori”, open shoes, heeled with lacquered wood and straps made with cloth. As soon as they are slipped onto his feet, he feels unsteady. He’s never worn such a heel before and having to grip the material between his toes to keep them on was disconcerting.

Lastly, Reina threaded his sword into his obi though she hesitated with his ruined tome. He reaches for it and she hands it over easily. ‘There is a pouch for it to sit in, next to your breast,’ she informs him. The thread of these clothes, however fine, feel odd against Robin’s skin and he feels strange following her advice, pulling at the collar of the kimono to open it slightly to see a sown in pocket on the right side. He fumbles sliding the tome inside.

Lady Mikoto had folded his wet clothes in his cloak and rolled it up to carry it under one of her arms. Sensing the weight of his gaze, she smiled and reassured him: ‘you may get your clothes returned to you later, after they have been cleaned.’ 

Those were the clothes Robin had been found in and although he had bought others since, he felt oddly protective of them but he also took her word for it, even if he insisted in stuffing it into his duffle bag and carrying it himself. 

Robin swung his bag over his shoulder, free hand playing with the oversized sleeve of his kimono.His gauntlets and gloves were removed from him before he could protest, and his brand was exposed but he wasn’t in Ylisse anymore and the risk of this mark meaning something here was slim but as he walked he cold sense himself idly pulling the cloth over the dorsal side of his hand.

It was very difficult to walk in the zori and the hakama aided in strangeness. Lady Mikoto was patient though as they reached the castle, a grand structure which was made from both stone and wood, with techniques that were vastly different from Ylisse and yielded even more contrasting results. 

Robin understood why his presence at the lake was so unusual with how closed off he’s seeing the area is, and the limited protection at what must have been the back of the castle. A could of soldiers, on guard and wearing army he could vaguely recognise, let them through though they did side-eye him as he walked past. 

The interior of the castle they reached, after Robin was led up stone stairs, was nearly entirely wooden and painted screens. Soldiers were stationed around, stood to attention and bowed deeply as Lady Mikoto passed them.

Robin trails just a step behind, more in line with Reina who is keeping watch of the two of them, for very different reasons. Robin is content to his silence as Lady Mikoto idly hums a tune that sounded melancholy to Robin’s ear. He felt no conclusion to start a conversation when they were intercepted by a tall man, who halted at the sight of them. 

‘Mikoto-sama -’

‘My son,’ Lady Mikoto interrupts with a smile. ‘You’ve returned. I see you are unwounded.’ 

The man - a prince by Lady Mikoto’s address is dressed in a loosely wrapped white kimono and held together with a red obi. His dark eyes sweep the group before they land on Robin and narrow slightly. ‘Yes, the skirmish didn’t take long with the barrier,’ the prince responds as he runs a hand through his unruly chestnut hair, tied high and worn to his waist. Robin had thought Chrom’s hair was messy, now he sees he was mistaken. 

‘I am glad to hear this, Ryoma.’ Lady Mikoto reaches out to touch Ryoma’s cheek which he allows with a faint curl of his lips. It’s a reserved expression but there’s affection glinting in his eyes, however wary he seem to be with Robin. ‘If you’ve learnt anything new, Yukimura will like to know.’

Lord Ryoma glances towards Robin again. ‘Are you sure you do not need me here, mother?’

Lady Mikoto’s hand slides down to Lord Ryoma’s shoulder, which she squeezes before she lets go. ‘No need. My rurouni has returned and we must talk.’ Lord Ryoma relaxes by a hair at these words though Robin doesn’t understand them. ‘Please, Ryoma, this is Rufure.’ 

Robin glances towards Lady Mikoto but she remains unaffected from his regard. He looks back to Ryoma he is now watching him curious and Robin bows lightly, already supposing that this is some cultural quirk though his own uncertainly stops him from fully lowering himself.

Lord Ryoma returns the gesture though it is shallower, performed with just his neck, shoulders softly tilting forward. ‘Hajimemashite,’ Ryoma says and Robin cannot fathom the meaning of this but given the context, he figures it’s some sort of greeting. 

‘Hah-jimen-mashite, Lord Ryoma.’ Robin struggles to imitate it but he manages it with some degree of grace.

Lord Ryoma blinks, looking over to Lady Mikoto. ‘He has been out of the country for a long time,’ Lady Mikoto states, excusing what must be awful pronunciation. Or maybe Robin had completely misunderstood, either way. ‘And we have much to discuss…’ 

Lord Ryoma nods at the dismissal, already stepping back. ‘I see, I shall see you tomorrow, Milady,’ he says with a bow. With an acknowledgement from Lady Mikoto, he nods and passes them, heading back to where they had come. 

‘Now then,’ Lady Mikoto announces as she continues down the hallway. Robin follows silently, thinking over that meeting and listening to the rustling of his clothing. Not long after, they stop again in front of an innocuous screen door, identical to the rest running down this strip of hallway. 

Reina reaches over to open it for them, where Mikoto enters first. Robin follows after, looking over the room, he examines the matted floor, the screens and the simple table and cushions surrounding it. _Curious,_ Robin thinks as he steps further in while Reina hovers by the door. 

Mikoto looks to her retainer. ‘May you bring us some tea, Reina?’ 

Reina stiffens, her long navy hair falling over her shoulder as she jolts. ‘Milady…’ She hesitates and it doesn’t take a genius why. Robin cannot blame her for her caution. He was used to it and it was warrant however much he longed for - well, it didn’t matter.

Robin clears his throat as he removes his sword from the obi and holding it out for Reina to take. She does, almost automatically as she looks down to the blade in surprise. ‘Please hold onto it for me,’ Robin says before remembering his tome, stashed out of sight and no longer attached to his belt. He removes it from his person clumsily. ‘And this.’ 

Reina blinks at the ruined tome and yes, the tome was dead; useless, but it was a gesture of good will, one Reina appreciated as she relieved him of that too. Nodding in gratitude as she shifts them into what must be her dominant side as she leaves, sliding the door closed behind her. 

Mikoto seats herself on one of the cushions, legs folding under her neatly as she sits in front of the table, slowly reaching behind herself to remove a hidden blade that must have been the length of her forearm, a breed of which Robin doesn’t recognise, with a decorative hilt. She places it in middle of the table and then folds her hands in her lap. 

‘Please, have a seat,’ Mikoto asks and Robin slowly does so, copying how Mikoto has positioned herself, even with how awkwardly the clothes bend around him. They settle for awhile, assessing one another. 

‘You lied,’ Robin states as he does his best to ignore the blade setting under his nose. This was an intelligent woman, that much was clear. Everything she did was with purpose but Robin didn’t know her cause and that also made her unpredictable, something that unsettled his sensibilities.

Mikoto meets his eyes as she nods. ‘Yes,’ she agrees without protest, ‘I must apologise for that. I very much appreciate your candour and do not want you to think less of me, but we are in a…delicate situation.’ 

Robin tilts his head to the side. His legs underneath him are already complaining but he has cause to believe they are the least of his concern. His eyes narrow thoughtfully. ‘There is something vital I am missing and if you truly wish me under you banner, than I would ask that you share it with me, Milady.’ 

It’s probably not appropriated, his attitude but Chrom and Lissa, the Khans…they weren’t upstanding examples of how to treat royalty, but they were all Robin had. He didn’t know how else to be. Lady Mikoto doesn’t react adversely to Robin, though.

‘Yes, I fear I have the upper hand and I am, regardless, that this is very odd,’ Lady Mikoto concedes with some gravity, as if she expected this. ‘It’s quite commonly known amount these lands that I have premonitions: a future Sight. I have…been waiting for your arrival for a very long time, Robin.’ 

Robin’s mouth is dry as he watches Mikoto deliver this news with an unwavering voice and a strong gaze. ‘A…prophet?’ Robin asks weakly. 

In Ylisse, the study of magic was focused mainly on the elements and healing but Robin hailed from Plegia, where it’s far more intrusive. He’s read up on the many ways his birthplace differed to the country he had served and, though he still didn’t remember his past, maybe its presence still lingered; allowed him to not find this so odd. Suspended his disbelief. It certainly answered a few questions. 

‘As you say.’ Mikoto inclines her head. ‘I take it that it is not outside your realm of reference, from where you are from?’ she asks delicately. 

‘Not…entirely,’ Robin responds carefully. ‘Where I was born, such things aren’t so unusual with developments they have made with magic and the Gods.’

‘But your memory…’

‘Is gone, but…I’ve read things and sometimes knowledge finds a way of returning when memories of learning it stay lost.’ He keeps the bitterness out of his voice, forces his back to stay straight as he shrugs lightly. Maribelle wasn’t here to chide him for it anymore though his teeth his clench. He, occasionally, feels resentful with his mind and everything missing from within it. ‘I have some skill in carpentry, how I came to acquire such a thing, I have no idea.’ 

Lady Mikoto nods in understanding though she remains baffled. Miriel found his situation fascinating. ‘I must…apologise again, for my curiosity. It is none of my business and does not affect hat I want you for. I have just never met anyone suffering with what you are.’ 

Robin’s hands curl in his laps. ‘I appreciate that.’ Though the Shepherds had done everything possible to help him; he owed them everything he was, Robin wasn’t unused to criticism, to the suggestion that he wasn’t able. Still, they had digressed. ‘So you saw me.’ 

‘Yes, though I cannot divulge what I Saw. I do not want the knowledge I could impress to influence anyone’s actions.’ Mikoto’s smile, though always gentle, becomes apologetic. ‘That will leave this talk, perhaps, awkward and I fear that since you are new to this world we must first sort your lack of knowledge of Unmei and to…explain how I became Queen of this land.’ 

A very tired, beaded part of Robin wants her to refuse her this, is regretting following Lady Mikoto to the castle. Maybe he has gotten too use to routine; to simply going with the flow. His mind, trained and wiser for a war already fought, knows that this could embroil him into something dangerous, something that he might not be ready for. 

But Lady Mikoto is smiling at him kindly with a strain under her eyes and far too much tension about her person. Her aspect reminds Robin almost painfully of Emmeryn, his biggest failure, and that probably alone keeps him sat.

’The king died,’ Robin assumes in acceptance that he would at least hear what she has to say. 

Lady Mikoto seems to pause. ‘…Yes,’ she agrees but there are questions in her eyes.

‘You “became Queen”, you said, Milady. A monarch would not typically talk of taking up the crown with such words,’ Robin reasons from some past experience and the whispers of his gut. ‘Either you had a sibling and they are - gone, or you married into royalty.’

‘That’s quite the deception.’ Her smile fades and her eyes sadden. ‘Yes, King Sumeragi was murdered. We’ve been in a Cold War with our neighbours, Nohr, since before I arrived in Hoshido. The point of tension, originally, was mainly trade and exports. Things have been escalating between us for many years, but we were in piece talks by the time I was married. Queen Arete and I were arranging a marriage between two of our children, to solidify the alliance our husbands were discussing.’ 

Robin could unfortunately see where this story was leading through his prior experience and everything he studied. ‘They lulled you into a false sense of security.’ 

Lady Mikoto hesitates. ‘I…do not believe that was the original intention,’ she refutes, ‘Queen Arete and I were very hopeful but then, Queen Arete vanished and rumours of her death started to circle back to us.’ She swallows and there is something about her that makes Robin believe that she had grown close to Lady Arete. 

‘King Garon was much changed after her passing. He grew age’d and was much more prone to violence. Soon after, there was no talking with him and conflicts began around our borders.’ The Lady Mikoto spoke of this man was restrained but there was darkness there. ‘Sumeragi and I - we worried that this would mean war. It was not something we wanted but we mobilised the army, our country was prepared when a letter arrived for parley. I…did not have a good feeling about this, but we were so hopeful.

‘My husband took our two children and an entourage of soldier and left. He never returned. Neither did my son.’ 

‘They killed a child?’ People were capable of cruelty, kings doubly so. He did not remember the Blood Wars but knew that Chrom had been right to be nervous to bring up his father’s atrocities to him. The fear of something he did not recall living through churned his stomach after every mention, and it spoke louder than the number of books he’d read about it after the fact.

Lady Mikoto’s lips tighten. ‘No. Taken,’ she corrects as her stapled fingers tighten until the colour leaves them. ‘I have no seen him in years. We have attempted to get him back by employing a member of Kohga, to retrieve him. It failed and with the loss of our King…I could not risk a war.’

Robin hums. ‘He failed…completely?’ 

‘Truly, you are a sharp one,’ Lady Mikoto acknowledges after a brief pause. ‘No…though I fear you may think less of me for this.’ 

‘I, too, appreciate candour, Milady,’ Robin reminds her.

‘The nin returned with the Princess Azura from Nohr, Queen Arete’s daughter and a stolen artefact we had thought lost.’ Unease grows in Robin as Lady Mikoto continues: ‘I must impress upon you, however, that we have taken care of Azura as if she were our own. She is content here and wants for nothing.’ 

‘…A small thing for a child who has been taken from her home and her family,’ Robin quips from disapproval, even if it were not his place. ‘It…was not a- ill-conceived strategy, if you simply wanted to negotiate your own prince’s return but it could have also have led to far more volatile reactions.’ 

Mikoto nods. ‘We did attempt to barter at the beginning but it was a hopeless endeavour.’ A flicker of anger flashes across her eyes. ‘I suppose King Garon did not care for the child of his recon Queen.’ 

The way she says his name…

‘He has many children?’ Robin asks instead. 

‘Both kingdoms have been blessed with many children. King Garon, however, had a…habit of taking mistresses after the death of his first Queen, Katerina. They had one son and heir, Prince Xander.’ There were equal parts sympathy and disapproval over the distasteful curl of Mikoto’s lips.‘I, too had a predecessor in Ikona who birthed all but one of the royal children.’

‘…The taken prince,’ Robin guessed. Emmeryn never had the opportunity to become a mother and maybe that’s why he never saw the raw fury on her face, like he is witnessing now. 

‘Kamui,’ Mikoto confirms. ‘He was five but he’s left such a hole. Ryoma, who you met outside, our eldest, who also went on this ill-gotten trip…he’s never forgiven himself. It has effected the whole family.’ 

Robin bowed his head lightly. ‘I am sorry for your loss,’ he says.

‘Don’t be. He is returning soon.’ Robin looks up, eyes widening.

‘I - you’ve Seen as such?’

Mikoto inclines her head. ‘I was never sure _when_ , my visions aren’t so clear but I could always measure the time around your arrival and you are here now. It will - it will be soon.’ Her voice holds equal parts apprehension and hope and so much excitement. 

‘And how do I tie into all this? I assume that relations with Nohr have not soothed since.’ 

’No. I have had to erect a barrier around Hoshido in order to protect us. As of now, we are holding onto peace by our fingertips.’ But something always tips the balance, Robin had been taught that when watching Emmeryn fall. 

‘You wanted me for something before you knew I was a tactician.’ 

Mikoto nods. ‘Yes, you will play a part in a decision Kamui will be forced to make. I see that you become pivotal in his future. I understand that this is probably a galling statement for anyone to make, never mind a Queen whom you hold no allegiance, however I would like to make proposition.’ 

‘You have my ear, Milady,’ Robin promises. 

‘You are new to this world, in every aspect. You have no where to go and will know no one. If you would agree to stay here, in the castle, I promise you resources, a roof over your head and anything you ask for that is in my power to provide.’ 

Robin raises an eyebrow. ‘That’s a lot to promise.’

‘Yes.’ 

‘And…you are not demanding anything specifically in regards to this future you saw? Prince Kamui?’ Because otherwise, Robin wasn’t exactly sure what was expected of him. Just his presence? His time?

‘That…I will leave that down to the two of you. Of course I would like it if you, on his arrival, will make him welcome, but my hospitality is not compliant to your relationship with my son,’ she reassures.

‘That’s…awfully generous of you,’ Robin states but he can’t help but feel uncertain about it.

‘I do not want to force this. The future is a fickle thing, Robin.’ Mikoto watches him for a moment. ‘You are also a tactician, something I had not understood from what I had Seen and - your advice could be invaluable.’

‘And a good explanation for my being here,’ Robin says.

Mikoto laughs. ‘Yes.’

‘You do not want the reason for my presence to be discovered, that is why you redressed me before my arrival. Why you lied to your son.’ This is not a question. This is the only thing that would make sense.

‘Anything can lead to unfortunate outcomes,’ Mikoto reiterates. 

Robin bites his lip and thinks for a moment, even as his reluctance loosens it’s hold on his chest. ‘…what would be my story?’

Mikoto relaxes a minute further. ‘That you are a travelling rurouni -’

Robin holds up a hand to halt her. ‘Forgive me, what is a - rorooni?’ 

‘Rurouni,’ Mikoto repeats. ‘It’s…a wander, a masterless samurai - a swordsman.’

Robin almost snorts.

‘You can use the blade, can you not?’ Mikoto enquires.

‘Yes,’ Robin concedes. ‘Though I am more proficient with a tome.’ 

Mikoto looks thoughtful. ‘That would be fine, as long as you are capable enough with a sword.’ 

‘A r-rurouni, then,’ Robin allows though his tongue struggles to pronounce the word.

Mikoto nods. ‘You have been serving me from some time, gathering information when you became injured by the stormborn.’

‘The….stoneborn?’ Robin repeats in bafflement.

Mikoto blinks for a moment. ‘Ah. They are monsters, crafted through dark magic by Nohr. They are made of clay and can be quite…troublesome.’ 

‘I…understand,’ though Robin feels like he doesn’t. ‘It might…be for the best if I get introduced to these creatures, sooner rather than later.’ 

Mikoto hesitates. ‘If…you like. I could have Reina take you out, for training, maybe.’

‘Please,’ Robin confirms. The better he gets a handle on this world and its monsters the better. It wouldn’t do for him to be taken unaware. 

Mikoto continues after a moment of silence. ‘You were confused. One of our nin recognised you and brought you back to the castle.’ 

‘…you wish to use my amnesia,’ Robin states.

Mikoto’s apologetic expression is enough of a response. ‘It would work for our propose, but if you are not comfortable…’

‘And what of Reina?’ 

‘My retainer holds the utmost discretion,’ Mikoto without an ounce of worry. Maybe Reina was this world’s Frederick and if that were the case, Robin supposes he can understand the trust. 

‘And no one will find my sudden appearance odd?’ Robin asks. Maybe he shouldn’t of. Chrom had allowed him to feel too comfortable with royalty. The Khans hadn’t helped.

Mikoto shakes her head. ‘I have many allegiances that I keep close to my chest. No one will find your appearance too odd.’ Her expression flattens then. ‘I have…had to take in many Nohrians or clansmen as King Garon grew more ruthless.’ 

‘And…I seem Nohrian?’ Robin had realised quickly once they walked through the castle that he did not look even mildly similar to any of its inhabitance. In comparison, he perhaps blended in more easily in Ylisstol.

‘You bare a striking resemblance to those of the Fire Tribe though I suppose your skin is a tad darker in this light.’ She considers him. ‘As a rurouni you do not need to identify with any clan which is - for the best, as we are currently working with the Flame Tribe; the Cheftain’s daughter, Rinkah is currently in Hoshido and it would be inconvenient if she discovered this ruse.’ 

‘Then you can say I came to you when my family was killed,’ Robin concludes.

Mikoto opens her mouth. ‘…You would feel comfortable with that? It is a bad omen -’

‘You are not the only world with war, Milady.’ It was unlikely any family of his survived the Blood Wars. He had been quite notorious from the campaign and with all the time he had spent in Ylisstol afterwards, no one came asking for him, and the implications were dark ones. 

Mikoto closes her eyes. ‘My condolences.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ Robin dismisses. He hadn’t really had the opportunity and he does not want to have to do it now.

’Then, that would make for a fine cover story.’ 

‘And I suppose I shall be keeping this name you’ve given me?’ Robin assumes though he’d have to learn how to say it first. 

Mikoto cringes a bit. ‘Yes, forgive me my hubris. It is - common for my workers from Nohrian territories to abandon their given names. To discern their seriousness and determination.’

‘I am not…opposed, exactly,’ Robin says despite his name being one of the few things he has of his past, that he can truly call his own. …Maybe he wasn’t completely prepared. ‘I can - use it in…official capacities.’ 

‘Rufure…this will be fine for you?’ 

‘…yes, I can live with that.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...cannot believe how difficult this chapter was. Months and months of struggling and not being able to write a word and then getting this out in a day. Thank you for those staying with this and being so kind, it really gave me the final push! 
> 
> Admittedly this may not be the most interesting. I just needed to get these two characters on the same page. Get Robin knowledgable enough to go forward. Some stuff needs to happen before Corrin arrives, so yeah.


End file.
